


Hope Burns Bright One-Shots

by starbuck92



Series: Hope Burns Bright [4]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Iron Man 2, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbuck92/pseuds/starbuck92
Summary: This will be a collection of short stories all relating to my longer series, Hope Burns Bright.
Relationships: Pepper Potts & Hope Van Dyne, Scott Lang & Tony Stark, Scott Lang/Hope Van Dyne, Tony Stark & Hope Van Dyne
Series: Hope Burns Bright [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1313471
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	1. Intro

Chapter 01: Intro  
Chapter 02: Simple Solutions  
Chapter 03: Relativity  
Chapter 04: Sole Sisters


	2. Simple Solutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the simplest solutions work best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [averita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/averita) for beta reading!

This wasn’t the first time Hope van Dyne had sat in the office of the CEO of Stark Industries, but it was certainly the first time she’d ever sat opposite someone who wasn’t a Stark. Although she was perusing through her emails on her smart phone, Hope couldn’t help but listen in to the conversation taking place across the desk, the corner of her mouth lifting as the new head of the company effectively and efficiently put whoever was at the other end of the line in their place. As she finished the call and hung up the phone, Pepper Potts sighed and offered Hope an apologetic smile.

“Bureaucrats,” she huffed. “Even with all the financial support we’ve authorized to clean up the mess after the Stark Expo, they need constant reassurance that everything is being handled.”

A couple of months had passed since Ivan Vanko wreaked havoc throughout Queens, and repairs and restoration of the borough were in full swing. Pepper had remained in New York the entire time orchestrating relief efforts, determined to show the public that the company was committed to its promise to help rebuild, only returning home to the West Coast the day before yesterday once she was satisfied things were progressing according to plan.

Hope’s smile widened, her eyes flicking toward the double doors at the sound of a familiar, exuberant voice on the other side. “It’s impressive the way you handle them.”

Pepper returned the smile, her own attention shifting to the entrance to her office as Tony Stark barged in, a coy glint in her eyes. “Well, when you’ve spent years handling _that_ , bureaucrats are a walk in the park.”

Hope quickly covered her mouth with her hand, smothering a laugh, and Tony raised an eyebrow, plopping down in the seat next to her, looking from one woman to the other before his focus settled on the silver, swinging rods of the kinetic toy on Pepper’s desk. She noted the distaste in his expression as he wrinkled his nose at the thing.

“If you’re done talking shop, then are we ready for lunch? Happy has the car out front.”

Pepper began gathering some paperwork off the desk, nodding. “I just need to sign a few things and have Bambi send them off and then we can head out,” she informed them, walking out to her secretary’s office. Before she crossed the threshold, she tossed a look over her shoulder in Tony’s direction, adding, “Don’t take anything apart.”

He had the audacity to appear offended at the suggestion, opening his mouth to defend himself before he thought better of it, slumping back in the seat as he watched Pepper walk away. Once the click of her heels faded away, he turned back to the desk to confront the annoying toy, his hand freezing in midair when he realized it was no longer there.

Hope had the thing in her lap, her brow creased in concentration and her teeth worrying her lower lip as she fiddled with it. Using one manicured fingernail, she pried open the casing beneath the base and popped out the batteries, immediately halting the kinetic movement. She shoved the inert toy into his grasp, a victorious grin on her face. “You’re welcome.”

Tony’s jaw dropped in shock, amazed at the simple solution, and he failed to hear Pepper returning.

“Didn’t I ask you not to take anything apart?” she sighed as she came to a stop next to him, crossing her arms at her chest.

He blinked, caught completely off guard, and pointed an accusing finger at Hope, sputtering, “But… she was… I didn’t…”

Hope tilted her head to one side as she lifted her eyebrows, the picture of utmost innocence. It was a look Tony was incredibly familiar with, having been on the receiving end of it countless times in the past two decades, a look that often landed _him_ in trouble all too often while Hope escaped punishment.

“Nope! I call foul! You’re so not allowed to do that! You’re not five years old anymore! That’s not fair!”

Pepper shook her head, grabbing her purse and motioning for Hope to accompany her.

The younger woman took a few extra moments to gather her own things, glancing at the entrance of the office to make sure Pepper was out of earshot, before she slipped a hand into her pocket and fished out the batteries she had removed from the toy. With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she reached for Tony’s hand and closed his fingers around them, her quiet giggle turning into a shriek of laughter as Tony chased her out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was borne of the fact that every time I watch Iron Man 2 and see Tony irritated with that toy on Pepper's desk, I wonder why he doesn't just take the batteries out of the thing.


	3. Relativity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days before they go on the time heist, Tony and Scott share a beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've ever written from Scott's POV. I hope I did him justice.
> 
> I may write these mediocre stories, but let's be real - [averita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/averita) smacks the crap out of the coal until it turns into diamonds.

Scott has probably drunk enough Red Bull and Mountain Dew (never together, because, _gross_ ) to keep him wired until the end of the year and he’s fairly certain all the caffeine running through his system is why he’s awake in the middle of the night when he should be trying to sleep. His eyelid happens to involuntarily twitch at the thought, which only confirms his theory according to his sleep-deprived brain. Really, he should maybe cut back just a little.

Despite the ungodly hour the kitchen is brightly lit, homely even with the state of the art appliances and the notebooks, coffee cups, and high tech gadgets haphazardly left on the tables and counters. It reminds Scott of college when he would get together with his classmates for all night studying binges, textbooks and plates of food scattered about the surfaces of whatever twenty-four hour diner they happened to raid before exams… except, you know, now his friends happened to include a talking raccoon, a Hulk-sized genius, and Captain fucking America. And instead of cramming for a final in solid state processing and integrated circuits, he was helping to save half the universe. 

No big deal, right? 

Scott pokes his head in the fridge, rummaging around until he finds a beer and a pint of Stark Raving Hazelnuts ice cream. Probably won’t help him get any sleep, but at least it’s not Red Bull _or_ Mountain Dew.

“Beer and ice cream? That is a _horrible_ combination. You’re going to end up regretting your poor life choices in a couple of hours.”

The unexpected voice startles the crap out of him. He clutches the bottle and pint to his chest, nearly squishing the ice cream out of the carton, and whirls around to come face to face with Tony Stark, who is sitting in a chair at the table. Tony must either be a complete ninja or Scott’s focus was so zeroed in on snackage that he’d walked right by the other man. Either option seems plausible.

Before he has a chance to respond, Tony nods in his direction. “Hey Nick Szalinski, mind grabbing me one of those?”

His mouth still hasn’t quite caught up to his brain so he raises each item, a questioning expression on his face. Tony points to the bottle before returning to the tablet he had been working on while Scott opens the fridge again to grab another beer, finally registering that he’s just been referred to as the nerdy kid from the Rick Moranis movie he watched over and over again when he was younger. The fact that he used to pretend to be that kid when he and his friends played make believe keeps him from being offended. Poking around the drawers, he finds a spoon and then carefully walks to the table, setting one of the bottles in front of Tony who murmurs a distracted thanks. 

He sits at the opposite end of the table, digging into the ice cream while stealing curious glances at the only other person in the kitchen. He can’t help it. It’s the first time he’s ever been alone in the same room as Tony and his curiosity is piqued.

Hank had spent years filling his head with ideas about the guy who flew around in a tin can powered by cute technology - Hank’s words, not his - and, yeah, the fact that the same guy was trying to stop Captain America in Germany didn’t make Scott think any better of Tony. If he’s being honest with himself, though, he let other people’s opinions shape his own without ever properly meeting the man. It wasn’t until he spent some time with Tony in a private clinic’s waiting room, sick with worry for Hope after the fight to bring her mom home from the quantum realm, that he began developing a deeper understanding of the person underneath all the hype, catching glimpses of who he really was… and just how important he was to the woman Scott was crazy in love with.

In the time since his arrival at the compound, he quickly came to the conclusion that Hank was at least partially right about Tony - he was definitely a sarcastic, brilliant son of a bitch - but something else about him kept niggling at the back of Scott’s mind. It wasn’t just the way he processed information lightning fast or how he had an arsenal of quips ready to unload at any given moment, dangerous to spar against with his sharp wit and even sharper tongue. No, he was missing something and it was driving him nuts trying to figure out why, why, why Tony reminded him of something so maddeningly familiar. It was as if…

“Something on your mind, Chicken Little?”

The tilt of his head, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the slight quirk of his mouth, hell, the tone of the teasing voice, it was like…

… _oh_.

There wasn’t a drop of blood relation between Hope and Tony, but in that moment, the similarities were blinding and his heart constricted painfully in his chest at the blunt reminder of his loss. Picturing her sitting there across the table next to the guy who was like a brother to her was effortless, his imagination conjuring up every little detail of her face, the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair.

A wad of paper smacking him in the face fractures the illusion.

Scott blinks, spoon halfway to his mouth, melting ice cream dripping onto the table. Shit, how long had he been staring?

Tony looks half concerned, half annoyed, tossing a package of takeaway napkins at him - okay, definitely more annoyed than concerned then. He cleans up the mess, buying himself a little time as he thinks about how to reply. The big question that has been on his mind since he arrived at the facility and laid out the groundwork for the time heist pops out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Do you think this is going to work?”

He hates the uncertainty that ekes into his voice, but there’s no time to take it back, to add anything to make him sound less vulnerable because Tony’s leaning back in his chair, jaw working as he crosses his arms across his chest. Scott hates it even more when Tony responds with what he’s discovered is the man’s usual snark.

“Well, you’re the one who initiated this whole Marty McFly gamble. We’ve successfully sent our Einstein to the past and back so we’re at the point of the story where the Libyan terrorists are ready to bust in and open fire. So unless you’ve got any Doc Brown surprises up your sleeve, there’s not much else we can do, is there?”

It’s unbearable that the tone reminds him of the days when every word out of Hope’s mouth was razor sharp and condescending and, fuck, did she learn that defense mechanism from Tony or had she always been that way against strangers she didn’t trust? Scott wishes he knew, but they had barely begun scraping together the trust he shattered when he ran off to Germany, and childhood anecdotes were few and far between, a slippery subject despite the progress Hope had made with Hank.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes, muttering, “Look, you were my second choice to fix this mess, all right? My number one choice is… She’s…”

And he has to stop himself from continuing, his throat tightening, unable to even begin to think about the fact that he may never get Hope back. For a minute, the only sounds he can hear are the steady ticks of a clock somewhere nearby, another reminder of the fact that time was a bitch that carried on with little regard for his feelings, and the own pounding of his heart, each thump echoing loudly in his head, like a bass drum banging around the inside of his skull.

When he responds, it’s like Tony’s voice is coming from a long distance, quiet and raspy as it is.

“She would have figured this out in a heartbeat.”

Scott lets his hand fall back onto the table, looking again at the man across the table from him, and for just a moment, Tony drops his guard, the magnitude of his grief laid out bare, as deep and immeasurable as Scott’s own as he meets Scott’s eyes. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and his thoughts have been whirling through his head nonstop since he popped out of Luis’ van a few weeks ago, and he should drag his ass to bed after winning this very small victory, but Scott always has had a habit of ruining moments.

“What was she like as a kid?”

The seemingly innocent question elicits the complete opposite response he’s hoping for. It’s like a vibranium wall drops between them, Tony’s vulnerable expression shuttering in an instant and, crap, Scott has definitely gone and pissed him off now. 

“What, Hank Pym couldn’t answer that question? Of course not, he barely knew his own goddamned daughter.”

Scott opens his mouth as if he intends to reply, but this time he snaps it closed just as quickly. He’s pushed too far and he guesses he hasn’t earned anything from Tony after all, and he can’t even bring himself to look the other man in the eye anymore as he ducks his head with a grimace, rising from his chair to leave him alone.

The scrape of the chair across from him stops him in his tracks and he stands frozen as Tony unleashes his wrath.

“Hank was a fucking fool. He had the most amazing daughter a man could ever ask for, and he tossed her aside and ignored her for most of her life. And you know what? It was his loss because he missed out on raising a warm, kind, funny, and brilliant kid.” Tony sucks in a deep breath, jabbing a finger against his own chest right where Scott knows the arc reactor is hidden beneath his T-shirt. “ _I_ did that, and I don’t give a damn what he told you about me because I _never_ took her for granted like he did. Hope may have forgiven him for that, but I won’t.” He shakes his head angrily, breathing hard. “I’ll never forget.”

Scott remains where he is, waiting with bated breath to see if the other man is going to share anything more, but after a complete minute of silence, the expression on Tony’s face is still hard and as closed off as Hope was once upon a time. After a long, tense moment, Scott’s shoulders drop and he turns away, tossing the trash in their respective bins and placing the utensil in the dishwasher.

Before he can take a step toward the door, he catches sight of a piece of paper partially sticking out of a book, the lines and curves in crayon yellow and red completely at odds with the piles of advanced science and math equations burying the rest of the counter. Unable to help himself, Scott tugs the sheet out from between the pages, his lips twitching in a brief smile as his eyes study a child’s drawing of Iron Man. He remembers Cassie - his brilliant, hysterical, _little_ girl - eagerly showing him artwork like this.

He takes a deep breath, running a finger over the picture, his back still to Tony. “I’ve made some really stupid decisions in the past, all of which have led me to missing out on most of my daughter’s life. It’s my biggest regret that I can never get that time back.” He pauses, then goes for it. “I don’t think it’s a stretch for me to say that I’m pretty sure Hank has his own regrets.”

Instead of bristling with barely contained rage, this time the voice behind him sounds much calmer. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

Scott slowly turns around, resting against the counter and gently dropping the drawing onto the table between them. Tony blinks in surprise, reaching for the paper and holding it between his hands, leaning back in his own chair as his clever eyes take in the details.

“What’s her name?” Tony asks, and the tension in Scott’s shoulders eases just a bit more, feeling as if he’s on safer, steadier ground with the other man now.

“Cassie.”

A gentle grin appears on Tony’s face as he sets the drawing back on the table, his eyes lighter as he bends his head forward and murmurs, “It’s a pretty name.” 

It’s a simple statement, and Scott isn’t prepared for the way the words and the change in Tony’s demeanor jolt him eight years into the past, sitting in a car outside of the Pym house with another dark-haired, prickly genius he’d had to tiptoe around because, holy shit, all of the missing pieces were clicking into place all at once: the depth of the betrayal in Hope’s eyes when he came home from Germany, not just because he’d gone behind her and Hank’s backs (a huge dick move all on its own); the way her jaw tightened every time Hank passed a flippant comment about the Starks (he was scared she was going to break a tooth someday); and _every single goddamn interaction_ he’d had with Tony in the last few days... Tony Stark, fucking Iron Man, but that’s not who Scott sees sitting at the table right now.

He sees another headstrong, ridiculously smart, intensely protective force of nature, and getting past the snarky barbs and iron-clad walls that protect a huge heart so torn up by the past is a mine-filled obstacle course, but oh, the reward of breaking through was unbelievably satisfying. He is more intimately aware of how much of everything Hope van Dyne learned at the knee of Tony Stark helped make her who she is… 

Scott takes a shuddering breath as he clutches the edge of the counter behind him, feeling absolutely gutted as he finally understands what they meant to each other, and God, it fucking _hurts_ , realizing his recklessness had played a part in almost dismantling that relationship. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d royally screwed up - his heart seizes up again at the thought of Maggie and Cassie.

His knuckles protest his death grip, but he has to hold on to something because he isn’t sure how the next thing out of his mouth will go over and, really, he wouldn’t take it personally if Tony popped out an Iron Man gauntlet to blast his ass. 

“I never got to apologize,” he says in a rush. “You know… for Germany. I didn’t know how close you and Hope were and… and maybe if I had, I don’t know, maybe things would have been different.”

There’s a long moment of silence between them and Scott doesn’t back down from the other man’s fixed stare because no matter what, he knows with a bone-deep certainty that Hope forgave him and - short of dropping down to his knees (he’s so not going to do that, he does still have his dignity and anyway he doesn’t think Tony would appreciate the excessive display) - he’s put the words out there and the ball’s in Tony’s court now.

“Scott?”

Was it going to be a gentle volley back? Or was he about to get an overhead strike straight to his groin?

“Yeah?”

When he looks up, there’s a different kind of fury burning bright in those dark eyes than before, full of protectiveness and fierce love. It’s the same look he’s sure he had on his own face when he fought to save Cassie from Darren Cross, and again when Ava Starr tried to prevent Janet from coming back from the quantum realm, cutting her off from reuniting with her daughter forever. It’s the exact same look he’s seen on Hope’s face every time she’s fought for what she loved.

“If you _ever_ hurt her like that again…” Tony says in a low voice, but the words trail off as Scott shakes his head. His grip on the counter loosens, and the words burst forth without him even stopping to consider anything but the promise in them. 

“I swear on my life.”

Tony considers him as he takes another sip from his bottle, setting it down on the table quietly before he gets to his feet. Scott isn’t sure what’s happening, and he tries to prepare himself for a fistfight or a verbal beat down or just complete rejection - _and which one of those would hurt the most_ , he wonders - when Tony wanders to the fridge and takes out another two bottles, offering him one.

“You may be an idiot, Scott. But you’re _her_ idiot.”

And he plops himself back in his seat, motioning with one hand for Scott to do the same.

Scott blinks uncomprehendingly, still frozen to the spot until a bottle cap plinks him squarely in the middle of his forehead, shaking him out of his stupor. There’s a tiny grin curling the corner of Tony’s mouth and a spark of mischievousness gleaming in his eyes that he’d begun to see more and more of on someone else’s face, but this time the reminder of Hope doesn’t sting or threaten to tear his heart in two. 

In fact, as he takes his seat across from Tony again and raises his bottle in a silent toast, the thought of her fills him with the sudden surety, the bright, overwhelming _hope_ that together they can make this right, if for no other reason than the fact that the empty seat between them belongs to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> relativity: the state of being dependent for existence on or determined in nature, value, or quality by relation to something else


	4. Sole Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circumstance had forced Hope to become incredibly self-reliant at a young age. After the death of her mother, the subsequent absence of her father, and being sent to boarding school at age ten, she had learned the hard way how to take care of herself, which in turn had built up her confidence to tackle whatever came her way. Challenges didn’t scare her; in fact, she welcomed a good debate or a seemingly impossible problem to crack. There were very few things in life that she struggled with.
> 
> So why was walking into a designer shoe shop so nerve-wracking?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my many thanks to [averita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/averita) for the beta!

Circumstance had forced Hope to become incredibly self-reliant at a young age. After the death of her mother, the subsequent absence of her father, and being sent to boarding school at age ten, she had learned the hard way how to take care of herself, which in turn had built up her confidence to tackle whatever came her way. Challenges didn’t scare her; in fact, she welcomed a good debate or a seemingly impossible problem to crack. There were very few things in life that she struggled with.

So why was walking into a designer shoe shop so nerve-wracking?

She felt incredibly out of place, trailing behind Miss Potts as they entered the shop and hanging back as the other woman was greeted by a sales associate, clearly on a first name basis. As the two made small talk, Hope slowly wandered through the space, taking in everything around her from the colorful rows of stilettos to the smell of fine Italian leather to the fact that there wasn’t a single price tag in sight.

It wasn’t that she was unaccustomed to money. Her father had built his own company, transforming it into a multi-million dollar venture over the course of her childhood, and her oldest friend was a billionaire who had expanded what his own father had started into a worldwide success. Riches didn’t intimidate her - no, Hope just wasn’t used to indulging in luxuries for herself. At home, she had felt practically invisible in her father’s presence, only warranting attention when she landed in trouble at school, eventually leading him to send her away to boarding school across the country; she strongly suspected he had advised his secretary to regularly send her an allowance, a ridiculous amount of money any normal parent would have balked at. Instead of spending it, the majority had ended up in savings bonds and investment accounts her Aunt Peggy had helped her with, their value skyrocketing in the decade since they were first opened. For an ordinary teenager - well, if ordinary was a word that could be applied to a genius nineteen-year-old kid like her - her net worth was impressive.

Wrinkling her nose, she flicked a three-inch long fluffy tassel on the bejeweled shoe closest to her. She wondered who on earth would wear such a gaudy piece of footwear, her shoulders tensing as she fought the urge to walk out of the store she clearly had no business being in in the first place. Every single pair of shoes in her closet had been purchased at big box stores - comfortable, practical things that didn’t break the bank. More than that, they suited her. _Unlike these monstrosities_ , she thought as she spotted a shoe that had to be over six inches tall with a cage for a heel and roses decorating the bars.

A gentle hand gripped her elbow, drawing her attention to Tony’s newest PA who was watching her with a warm smile on her face. 

“Hey, see anything you like?” the woman asked.

Hope had only met Miss Potts a couple of days ago at her college graduation, but she had begun to take a liking to the woman. She was definitely different from every other PA Hope had dealt with previously - the ones that lasted a week if they were lucky. Some simply weren’t able to keep up with the genius in charge at Stark Industries, but most were usually in it to sleep with Tony and cut their losses with a lucrative severance package. But Miss Potts - no, this woman didn’t seem like she was looking for a one night stand or some fast cash; she seemed dedicated to doing her job helping Tony, and for that reason, Hope found herself feeling comfortable around her.

“Miss Potts, I don’t even know why we’re here,” she admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes drifted down, and she tugged her lower lip between her teeth as she took in the contrast between the ratty, faded sneakers that she’d owned longer than it took her to graduate from college to the classy brown pumps on the other woman’s feet.

“We’re here because Tony wanted you to have something practical for your graduation present,” Miss Potts began, slipping her arm through Hope’s and guiding her to a wall adorned with sleeker looking shoes. “And please,” she added, “call me Pepper.”

Of all the gifts she’d ever received from the man, shoes fell more on the normal side of the spectrum. She certainly wouldn’t forget the champion racehorse for Christmas one year (“You said you liked horses!”) or the time he’d flown Carrie Fisher out to have lunch with her for her thirteenth birthday (“You love Princess Leia, she’s your favorite!”). Even when she’d expressly told him she didn’t need extravagant presents and something simple would be perfectly fine (“A teddy bear, Tony. A cute, snuggly, _little_ teddy bear!” she’d yelled into the phone while pacing next to a ten-foot monster sitting outside her dorm room), he had a bad habit of going all out.

Shoes were _definitely_ normal.

Hope studied each item in front of her, taking in the details and determining if any would be considered sensible and maybe just a little stylish for her straightforward taste. She skimmed past racks of shoes that just weren’t quite right - too stylized, too girly, some with heels too high for Hope to even _think_ about walking in - when all of a sudden she stopped on one that caught her eye. She stepped forward and plucked it off the display, the tips of her fingers sliding along the smooth black patent leather and bright red sole before she turned back toward the other woman, eyebrow raised in a questioning expression.

Miss Potts - no, _Pepper_ \- took the shoe from her with a knowing grin, her voice soft as she complimented her choice, and the response drew a smile out of Hope as she settled down in one of the plush chairs (no cheap plastic benches for the pampered butts that regularly frequented this place) to wait while the other woman went to ask for the right size. As she removed her own sneakers and socks and watched Pepper from across the room, she thought to herself that whatever Tony was thinking when he hired her, he had certainly made the perfect choice, too. 

Within a couple of minutes Pepper returned with a box of size eights, handing it over and giving Hope space to take the shoes out and try them on. There was absolutely no effort slipping into them; the insoles molded to the bottoms of her feet and as she moved in front of the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of power in standing tall, whatever traces of self consciousness she’d harbored when she first walked in forgotten.

As Pepper tucked against her side, Hope met her eyes in the glass.

“You know, I once heard that it doesn't matter how great your shoes are if you don't accomplish anything in them,” Pepper said quietly, and there was something in her voice that made Hope feel warm. “I think you’re certainly on the road to doing just that. And I know Tony’s there for you whenever you need him, but I hope you don’t think it’s presumptuous of me to tell you that if there’s anything you ever need, I’m a phone call away.” Her tentative expression gave away the first hint of uncertainty Hope had seen from this poised, polished woman, and that more than anything - more, even, than the insanely expensive shoes she was currently wearing - made Hope feel seen and cared for.

In response, Hope leaned into Pepper, slipping an arm around her waist. It was a strange but not unwelcome feeling - a profound kinship with this woman she was only just beginning to know, sharing something she probably would have done with her mother had she still been alive. There would always be whispers of regret that she’d missed out having her mother here for so many of her firsts, and she knew in her heart of hearts that no woman could ever replace her, but the thought of having a sister? That sat surprisingly well with her. 

Her smile widened as she turned to fully face Pepper, crossing her arms at her chest and raising her chin. “Well, Miss Potts, I once heard that good shoes take you good places. And I think we should take these bad girls out to lunch. Tony’s treat.”

Pepper laughed brightly, grabbing the credit card out of her purse. “You’ve got it, Miss van Dyne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louboutins are amazing btw.
> 
> And if you're curious, **[these](https://www.tradesy.com/t/dolce-and-gabbana-metallic-gold-dolce-and-gabbana-rose-embellished-leather-floral-cage-wedges-size-e/22147780/?utm_source=gpl&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=Smart%20Shopping%20-%20Shoes%20-%20All&utm_content=Ad%20group&utm_term=&cmpgnid=9451554684&adgrpid=95613872803&gclid=Cj0KCQiA7YyCBhD_ARIsALkj54rb40kXDgTIWlzl2zUh9JjLw4yUY5s1UqkMqrGdl_f3ntmLkK2U0QoaAjdTEALw_wcB)** are the monstrosities Hope balked at!


End file.
